


Dancing

by omphale23



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a deep breath.  Now another.  No, wait, not that deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

Take a deep breath. Now another. No, wait, not that deep. Don't want to hyperventilate, because that is _not_ cool. Not even in the same building as cool. The anti-cool. Eyes closed, now listen to the beat. _Really_ listen, listen with your feet and your ears and that space at the base of your skull where you can hear your spine grinding scratching snapping on a quiet morning. Listen until you can feel the next note before you hear it.

No movement, yet. Hold your hands still, keep your head down, still as you can. Keep breathing. Listen for him. There's a vibration in the air, his nervousness overlaid with your bowstring efforts to hold in the sway that the music calls for. It's a pause held too long, the decision to kiss. Or kick. Or scream. You wonder if he can feel it, too. If this is the reason he looks so lost sometimes.

Don't push, even when you want to, because the key, the absolutely essential, cannot begin without it, bottom-fucking-line is that you both have to get there at the same time. You can't move until he's ready to join you, and if you rush things, if you step away and start alone, you'll be out of step. And you can't get back in step without stopping, and if you stop, well, at the very least you'll be losing time you know you don't have. And at the most, he might decide it isn't worth the trouble. And we wouldn't want that, right?

But patience has never been the sort of virtue you could claim. And you're being very, very patient. So much more patient than he'll ever realize. So patient that your arms are shaking and there's a sob building into ache in the back of your throat.

Deep breath. Another. Again, and roll your shoulders. Back, then forward, neck loose and you can't help it, your wrists turn and your hands twitch and he's so still behind you that you wonder if he's gone but left some sort of phantom image at your back. A missing limb. But that vibration in your chest, you can use that. You can feel the bass next to your heart, in that space you keep silent for him.

Right, now shift. Slow, take him with you. Now is not the time to fight over who gets to lead.

Left, then right, and keep breathing. Don't stop breathing.

There, he's caught it, caught you, caught what you want from him. You can feel it, the hitched exhalation that's almost a word and maybe a name. The sudden relaxing of a tension you didn't know you were holding. The decision to slide together and step away from the floor and rock backward into his gasp and then. Well, then you're moving. Then it's dancing. Or something.

He's found you.

And you can open your eyes, now. Turn, and his eyes are so blue and so wide and stunned shocked scared relieved. He didn't know he could do this, didn't know he had it in him, didn't know you did. It feels like a cliché, feels like flying and falling and crying and like the best moment you've had in a long, long time. Feels like so much more than you asked for, and so much less than you wanted, and somehow it's miraculous that this was all it took. The stillness, and the motion.


End file.
